


foreigner's god

by Salty_Cro



Series: worshiping a god only i can see [5]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Song: Foreigner's God (Hozier), Songfic, The Adventure Zone: Amnesty (Podcast) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 10:45:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18207344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salty_Cro/pseuds/Salty_Cro
Summary: You love him to the point of lunacy, and he's got just as much reverence for you.





	foreigner's god

**Author's Note:**

> hey yall this one is like,,, only horny if you read into it?? also has mentions of panic attacks and similar events so just warning everyone

You are fascinated by the way he moves. He is always trying to slow himself down with jerky movements, but when he is alone with you he is fluid and dynamic and wonderful. He walks like a dancer, talks like a mad scientist, holds you like it’s the only thing he ever wants to do. He doesn’t breathe, except to talk, and that’s interesting too. Even in his stillness, it’s as if he’s posing for some unseen camera.

 

And really, you wish sometimes that cameras actually worked on him. He is beautiful, truly, and also strangely perfect. His human disguises have always been like that, he explained to you one day. He says he builds them from a template. And while the human body he has now is completely his, there are some things he can’t change about it. He’s tried, attempted to destroy the symmetry and too-sharpness, but it never works. The inherent Sylph-ness is undeniable. You remind him that you would think he’s perfect no matter what, no matter how unsettling he is.

 

One of the most unsettling things about him are his eyes. You’ve seen them, the shining red compound orbs, protruding from an otherwise human-passing face. You’ve seen their full versions, sunken into a fuzzy black head far better suited to them. But it’s not the alien appearance that’s so disconcerting. It’s something about the way he looks at you, like he’s searching inside you. Like he’s figuring out every single thing you’re thinking in a single moment. When he does it (and he does it often) you feel so vulnerable. It’s fine, you’ve been vulnerable with him before, but sometimes a pang of pure survival instinct tells you to look away. He would never hurt you, but you’ve always been taught to be scared of monsters.

 

Other than that, though, he’s very good at fitting into human life. In fact, he’ll often poke fun at you for doing something out of the ordinary. He says that you have a talking sword, where he just has cool glasses. He’s quick to criticize in general, honestly, but you know it’s never from a place of malice. Especially since he can see the future. You always take his advice, even if you won’t admit it. You have an image to uphold too.

 

Except that really, you don’t. That’s what makes this work. You are honest, and vulnerable, and scared. He has held onto you through panic attacks, monster attacks, asthma attacks. You’ve broken down at his feet, crying his name like he could help you with the weight of your fate that is so heavy and blinding. You say his name all the time, like you can’t believe you are allowed to know it, to know him.

 

Sometimes you wonder if anyone else has held him like you do. Not out of jealousy (after all, you are the one who gets to do it now) but out of simple curiosity. You know he would have mentioned if there was a person he would rather be with. He has said so many times, there is nowhere else in any world that he would prefer to be. Still, you exaggerate your romantic side a little bit sometimes, just to remind him that it’s there.

 

There are times, though, when he doesn’t care who you are. He is listless, despondent, so deep in a possibility that he forgets what has already come to be. He looks so far forward that he can’t even see you. He can barely move, barely function, and it scares you. He shakes with fear, with sorrow, with regret, with all the things that you will never be able to fix for him. God, you wish you could fix everything for him. For now, though, you just keep him alive and hope that he will remember who you are when he comes back to you.

 

When he does come back to you, you murmur soft assurances to him, sometimes to the point of incomprehensibility. Your mouth stumbles on the words because you just need him to know, need him to feel how much you love him. How much he means to you. He is just as scared as you are, and together you grieve for a horror that hasn’t happened yet.

 

Most of the time, you don’t have words to express how you feel about him. Where would you even start? The gentle excitement that builds when he touches you? The way you melt into the tingling sensation his fingers and lips and tongue leave? That his voice is the only thing worth listening to? That you love him so much and it’s the best fear you’ve ever felt? None of it works, so you work around it like you would a lie and hope he understands what you mean.

 

Every time you try, the words die on your tongue. Language fails you, no turn of phrase or metaphor or figure of speech or whatever the fuck your high school English teacher taught you is enough. Nothing is enough for him, you think, even though he is satisfied by anything you are willing to give him. If he were a god, you think, this would be a strange setup for him. All offerings and no praise. There is still worship, but rarely in the form of words.

 

He is open with you like he is with no one else. He has shown you who he really is, in all senses of the word. His past, his present, his future. He has cried, or the closest approximation of it, in your arms. He has told you how terrified, how petrified he is. He has gone still in your arms, and you gently coax him back to reality and the present. He says your name like an oath, like a prayer, like a song.

 

Together, you make an interesting pair. You think he is a miracle, and he thinks you are a savior. Both of you think the other has the answer. You both know that no one has the answer, that there is no answer. Or maybe, your answer is him. Maybe his answer is you. You say his name again, and he understands what you’re saying.

 


End file.
